


maybe we found love right where we are

by mallory



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, LLF Comment Project, Sharpay and Zeke make a brief cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallory/pseuds/mallory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her limited notion of what love means isn’t romantic in the least, but pragmatic, and it occurred to her on one of their rare lazy Saturday mornings, in tangled limbs and warm sheets, that the romance in their relationship has all been one-sided.</p><p>Gabriella takes lead on a romantic surprise for their anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe we found love right where we are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parisinjune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parisinjune/gifts).



> Title taken from 'Thinking Out Loud' by Ed Sheeran.
> 
> Edited 1/10/17.

Gabriella used to guard her heart the most around Troy. He was the one person she couldn’t afford to let past her defenses. It took everything she had to pick herself up after her father left; she didn’t think she could survive after Troy left her a crumbling mess too. After all, he had been the first person to chip away the hardness she had spent years fortifying around her heart with his big romantic gestures.

Though, if she’s being honest, she had only seen those romantic gestures as small reassurances; something she had believed were only heat of the moment. But as time went on, Gabriella realised that it’s just who Troy is; a romantic, and those grand gestures are how he knows best to express himself. After all, he witnessed the perfect example growing up.

When he got down on one knee a little over a year ago, it convinced her stubborn head wholeheartedly then that he was in it for the long haul. Gabriella finally believed, as he murmured sweet-nothings into her ear and brought her into his warm and safe embrace, that he wasn’t going anywhere. And it was then she let her scarcely-used heart fall in love with him deeper, completely with abandon. She had pushed herself against him tight, her chest against his, as if trying to absorb some of his strength, his courage, to fall so wholly, steadily, fearlessly.

The instrumental chiming of ‘You Are the Music In Me’ Troy had Kelsi record what seems like a lifetime ago interrupts the nervous energy in what used to be Gabriella’s high school bedroom.

(As of two months ago, their bedroom. The thought of sleeping in the master where her mother used to seemed a little strange.)

An smile spreads across her face as she makes a run across the room for it on the nightstand, yanking the fluffy robe back up her shoulder. “Troy! Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” he says on a sigh, a hint of dejection weaved between his words.

Frowning, Gabriella takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. It’s been a pretty crappy day.”

The delight that runs through her should make her feel bad, but what she has in store for him tonight zaps the guilt away. Ever the concerned wife (her heart still races every time she thinks it), Gabriella purifies her tone into sympathy: “Oh no. What happened?”

“Just… things haven’t been working out as I’d hoped all day.”

“I’m sorry.”

She can hear the smile in his tired voice when he says, “It’s not your fault.”

But it is.

It’s their first wedding anniversary today, and she had been running around Albuquerque like a headless chicken, trying to make tonight’s surprise perfect. Her plan was too big for her to shoulder on her own, so she had recruited their friends into helping her sabotage Troy’s own plans. To be honest, with Sharpay as the frontwoman of the sabotaging, the less Gabriella knew the better. The blonde, who decided that she enjoys directing shows more than being the star of them, moved back to Albuquerque and opened up her own theatre to mold the minds of her own thespians. She seems happy the few times they visited home and ran into her.

Gabriella hums. “Where are you now?”

“Almost home.”

 _Home_.

The word engulfs her and absorbs into her skin deliciously, soothingly, like a depressant drug.

Lucille had told them a few months back that the previous family who lived here were moving and the house was up for sale, if they were interested in buying it, since it was a good investment. She admitted, after they decided it would be a good idea to look further into the idea, that she suggested it mostly because she wanted to see them more and that this would be a good excuse for them to visit more often. Their furniture here mostly consists of secondhand furniture accumulated slowly through garage sales and antique stores they’ve visited on their days off. Although it isn’t stylish like their home back in California, the mix-matched furniture creates a cozy, relaxing atmosphere like her Abuelos’ house.

“Be safe, Wildcat,” she reminds him.

“I will. I’ll see you soon.”

Gabriella hangs up, slips the phone into her robe pocket and steps up to the mirror in the corner of the room, ruffling the curtain of curls around her shoulders.

A faint squeak downstairs, followed by a dull thud draws her in that direction, and she’s about to call down when a light tap against the balcony doors yanks her attention, and she spins around, the ends of her skirt under the robe tickling her knees, but that’s not the reason why they almost buckle.

Troy’s standing there wearing a goofy grin on his face and an outfit different from the one he had on before he left this morning. Now he has on a pair of dark jeans and a black sports jacket over a button down white shirt that’s open at the collar.

She races across the room and throws the balcony doors open before leaping into his arms, a huge smile stretched across her face. She giggles and tightens her hold around his neck as he lifts her feet off the ground and twirls them around.

He sets her back onto her feet, but dizziness swirls her equilibrium, so she holds on tighter, and he brings his forehead down to rest against hers. When she opens her eyes, he’s already look at her, his blue eyes sparkling in the dimness of the beautiful cool night. “Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi.” She smiles, drawing one out from him as well. She adores the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, the way his lips lift unevenly, so perfectly unperfect. Her hand reaches up to gently brush against his low cheekbones, and something in her chest warms when he pushes into her touch. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you more.”

Laughing lightly, she pulls him down by his lapels to press their mouths together. Sighing through her nose, Gabriella trails tiny kisses across his top lip before pulling back to smile lazily at him.

“I have some bad news,” he says, and it’s here when his smile finally dissipates, and his hand hooks around the back of his neck. “I had the whole night planned for our anniversary—and it was going to be romantic and really awesome—but… Everything fell apart.”

“Oh no.” She pulls on a disappointed, but sympathetic face.

(A very difficult expression to pull off, she finds, particularly since she doesn’t feel all that disappointed.)

“Don’t be mad,” he rushes to say. “We can improvise.”

“It’s okay, Troy.”

“It’s not. But it’s going to be.” He links their fingers together and tugs her inside. “We’ll make some mac and cheese, take out the picnic blanket and eat under the stars.”

“That sounds wonderful.” It honestly does, and Gabriella has half a mind to throw away her own plans to do just that, but she and their friends have worked hard all day to make the perfect evening. Speaking of, she needs to stall a little while longer. Tugging his hand in a signal to get him to pause, she makes her way to the hook adjacent to the window and sheds her robe. She turns around and bites her lip at the funny look on Troy’s face. His eyebrows are raised and there’s a ghost of a smile across his lips. “… What?” she asks.

“My wife is beautiful.”

Her shoulders hunch shyly, heart swelling and cheeks heating, but nothing can stop the smile that spreads so easily and smoothly on her face, like smearing marshmallow creme across a soft slice of bread. It warms her insides that after a decade together they’re still affected by each other. Clearing her throat, she smooths her hands down around the ribcage of her blue empire waist dress and then returns to his side and slips her hand into his, tangling their fingers together again. “How was work?”

Halfway through his freshman year at Berkeley, Troy found his true calling as a Sports Psychologist and applied to change his focus to Sports Psychology. He’s currently working under one of the best Basketball Psychologists on the West Coast.

As Troy leads her out of the room and toward the staircase, babbling on about the conversation he had with one of his players, Gabriella rolls her lips together as she discretely pulls up her messages on her phone. Through years of practice in college and then law school, she’s mastered the craft of texting with one hand and without looking down at her phone, having sent quite a few messages to Troy, who couldn’t concentrate in his lectures and decided to distract his girlfriend (and later fiancée) as well.

She texts Zeke two words: **Coming down.**

Troy stops talking mid-sentence then stops walking all together when they reach the edge of the dining room.

Lifting onto her tip-toes, Gabriella peeks over his shoulder at the beautifully displayed table (if she does say so herself). “I know you wanted dinner under the stars, but how about a candle-lit dinner here and then dessert under the stars instead?” She plants a kiss on his shoulder before stepping around him.

He gathers her into his arms as he turns to meet her halfway where they’re both standing under the arch doorway. “You did this?”

“Well, I had some help,” she admits. “But I did set the table myself, and I was Zeke’s sous-chef.”

He squints at her. “And my plans?”

She winces. “Sharpay.”

Troy laughs. “Of course.”

With a nervous energy that’s new to her, she gestures to the dining table and asks, “Do you like it?"

“I love it, and I love you.” He leans over and pecks her on the lips.

Zeke appears from the kitchen then, brandishing two silver platters. “Good evening! If you lovebirds will take a seat, dinner is served!”

Under the romantic glow produced by the dozens of candles spread around the room, they dig into their seafood risotto. They chatter lightly about anything that comes to mind; how the food tastes, Gabriella’s day at work, and a brief discussion about the latest play from Sharpay’s theatre. The smile on her husband’s face is permanent throughout and Gabriella’s heart swells. She did that.

Sharpay comes out to clear the table. “Your dessert’s out back.”

Troy shuffles out of his seat and rounds the table to help Gabriella out of her own.

As they pass Sharpay, Gabriella squeezes her bicep. “Thank you.”

Sharpay smiles back. If you would have told Gabriella in high school that not only she would develop a friendship with Sharpay Evans, but that the woman would play a large role in her anniversary surprise for Troy, Gabriella would have rushed you into the emergency room for a head scan. “Lunch tomorrow?”

Stepping out into the cool night’s air, Gabriella sweeps her gaze in appreciation of the pretty fairy lights wrapped around the two tree trunks that support the new hammock Troy put up last week. In front of one of the trunks sits an outdoor chair housing a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries. Zeke and Sharpay must’ve done this while they were inside.

Troy pulls her down into the bed of ropes after carefully lounging back himself, and she snuggles into him with her head on his shoulder and arm wrapped around his middle. He gently sways them back and forth as she glances up at the pretty twinkling stars through the smattering of leaves and branches of the cool spring night.

She’s never really thought about it, but to her, showing someone you love them means staying; being there. Standing right beside them through every- and anything. She struggled to do that in high school, a larger part of her not believing that what they had could withstand the real world. But now she has more faith—something in which she’s learning to trust—in them, in the world, in herself.

Troy hides a kiss into the curls at the top of her head. “Thank you for this,” he whispers, like it’s a secret that should be kept between them and the crickets in the night.

She tilts her head back. “I love you.”

He leans down to run the tip of his nose down the length of hers, and she scrunches hers teasingly. His breathy laugh washes against her lips, and goosebumps rise over her skin. “I love you. Happy anniversary, Gabriella.”

Her limited notion of what love means isn’t romantic in the least, but pragmatic, and it occurred to her on one of their rare lazy Saturday mornings, in tangled limbs and warm sheets, that the romance in their relationship has all been one-sided. Following was the guilt creeping in that she doesn’t show Troy how much she appreciates him. And she appreciates him more than anything in her life.

The realist in her knows they’re only silly little gestures and that romance doesn’t equate love. But romance is a part of the bigger idea of love. Romance is important to Troy, and if it’s important to him, it’s important to her.

“I’m sorry I don’t show you how much I love you with surprises and gifts,” she mumbles, lowering her lashes and digging her nose into the side of his neck.

“What?” Troy pulls away and looks down at her with a frown on his face. “Gabriella, what…?”

Trepidation creeps up her throat as she tells him, “You’ve been doing all of the heavy lifting for the romance in our relationship. I want to change that.”

The smile on his lips soothes the crinkles of his eyebrows, and it’s like a lightbulb has switched on as he readily pulls her into a hug. “Gabriella.” He laughs lightly. “Is this what this night was about? Babe, I love you for this, I do, but it’s not necessary. Romance is my thing, okay? It’s how I express my love for you. But you, you’re a realist.” He draws her away from him enough that she can see his face. “Do you know how I know you love me? When I wake up every morning to you right next to me. When you ask about my day and offer the best advice you can give when I ask for it, even when you don’t fully understand the topic. When we have an argument and I’m being dumb, but you don’t walk out the door; you stay and fight until we make up.”

She sniffles, only now aware that she’s crying.

“C’mere,” he says gently, gathering her back into his arms. He cups a hand to the back of her head, cradling her against his neck. “I just want you to be you,” he murmurs, the grumble of his deep timbre soothing her, “because that’s the Gabriella I love most. Okay?”

She nods, letting out a bubble of a laugh at how ridiculous she’s being. She hooks a leg over his to get impossibly closer to him as she tries to get herself under control. “I can’t believe you managed to make that speech more romantic than my surprise.”

“It’s a gift,” he replies, humour drenching his voice. He pushes a kiss to her forehead, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “But if you still feel like you need to carry some of the romance, I do know how you can make it up to me.”

“Oh yeah?” She sighs, her head jostling as he shifts. “How’s that?”

“With lots’a sex.” A cheeky grin toys at his mouth when she peers at him with raised eyebrows and a huff of amused disbelief.

Then she smirks and climbs off the hammock. “Done.” She races toward the back door, giggling, and when she turns around with a foot already in the house, he’s still sitting there, swinging slightly and wearing a stunned expression, arm suspended in the air from when she threw it off her lap. “Grab the strawberries,” she calls laughingly, and that seems to snap him out of it.

He scrambles ungraciously off the hammock, almost falling out of it as the ropes twist and turn with his abrupt movements. It only fuels her laughter, and she escapes for the bedroom.

Troy catches her around the waist just as she hits the staircase, and she squeals as she’s hauled over his shoulder.

“I’m not wearing any panties, you know,” she teases, her laugh coming out choppy as he hurries up the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
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